


Metanoia

by Rheah



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/F, Fix It, Lesbians in Ancient Greece, Romance, Secret Relationship, Trojan War, soft lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 05:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18631726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheah/pseuds/Rheah
Summary: Sing, Goddess, Helen's love,Bright and gentle, that cost the GreeksIncalculable pain, pitched countless soulsOf heroes into Hades' dark,And left their bodies to rot as feastsFor dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done.What if Helen had found her true love in Troy?





	Metanoia

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very proud to finally post this story here. It took so much out of me. It also won the frist prize in my school novel contest. Actually a shorter version of it did, so the longer version is an exclusive here.

Sing, Goddess, Helen's love,  
Bright and gentle, that cost the Greeks  
Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls  
Of heroes into Hades' dark,  
And left their bodies to rot as feasts  
For dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done.

*

_A king,_ they said. _Powerful, all of Sparta is at his feet, and soon you’ll be his queen, Helen_. She married him, not because she liked him but it was what she had been told to do.  She didn’t have a choice, that was the way the world is. Princesses marry kings and bear their children. Sometimes gods came in and play. Our mother had told her that, she wasn’t supposed to know. But her brothers had shown their true selves to the world. Well Pollux had. _You’re like him_ , her mother had said. _A daughter of Zeus._

_You’re beautiful_ , was the first thing Menelaus had told her, like so many men before.

 

An ambassador, a young daring prince Paris had offered a way out. Out of that dull palace and life. Leaving husband and daughter behind was for the best, he had said. She had doubts, asking, begging for some time to think. Such time had not been granted to her, as she had realized waking up on the Trojan ship sailing away from Sparta. Even that choice had been ripped from her, as all the other ones in her life. Her husband, her daughter, leaving her home. Sparta had made her strong. No weak woman could bear the king’s child. She had been raised to poetry and music, the arts that a woman could master to please her husband, weaving and sewing and so much more. But no tutors of her had made her run miles and miles, forcing her to endure the worst pains. Not like Sparta had. Sparta had made her stronger, prepared her for all the trials she would face during her journey.

*

The sun used to weave a golden crown in his hair draping him of a godly halo. She should have known, should have paid attention to his shadow. Or lack of thereof. But he had shone like the sun and she had been foolish Icarus. A mere child, free of pain, full of joy. _I can give you everything._ He had sworn on the Styx. _Everything?_ Why did she do it, why did she did it? _I want the gift of the Pythia._ Nothing mattered more than Troy. She would be its last walls, its last protection. She would carry a burden, worse than Atlas’ for her homeland.

He had granted her wish.

And he came back one day, asking for her love.  She hadn’t made such promises but everything came with a price; She should have known. He poisoned her mouth and her nights. Her family locked her up. _For safety_ , they claimed. But not her own. And when all was said and done, she couldn’t bear to look at the sun again. She should have known, she should have known better but nobody warns little girls about traitorous gods with honey words.

*

Somewhere outside her room people were fighting. Her father and newfound brother Paris it seemed. Cassandra didn’t feel compelled to listen to their heated argument; she already knew the topic, had foretold it even. But it’s not like anybody listened to her. And now they had the Spartan queen locked up in their palace. She could ask to visit her, under the false pretence of a warming welcome.

 

An empty stillness had struck her home, her light footsteps echoed in the marble hallways, breaking the eerily atmosphere. The proverbial calm before the storm.  Not a single haunted soul, no petulant children. And then, finally, _her,_ facing the window, her back to any newcomer

“You’re that Spartan Queen my brother stole.”

Helen turned around, startled by the unknown voice. Her face carved by the gods themselves from the curves of her blossoming lips to her frowned brows and yet she still bore her humanity as her crown. Helen made no effort to conceal her glistening, weeping eyes. Her wet cheeks and bloated nose made Cassandra believe every tale. Pain and suffering grounded her ethereal beauty and, in her eyes, - the bluest eyes she had ever witnessed- burned a strength Cassandra could only wish for.

“Is that a question?” Helen answered, firm, not the shaky voice Cassandra expected.

“No.” Honesty was the only compassionate gift Cassandra could offer. “I foresaw your arrival long before today. I was hoping fate wouldn’t run its course, but here we are. War is upon us and I can’t stop it. Ten years of misery and deaths. Man, on man, god on god, son on father, will witness one of mankind’s cruelest testimony.”

“You’re a charming woman, mouth full of gruesome prophecies. You must be Cassandra. You should leave before I call the guards.”

“I’m sorry if I came off as one of Death’s messenger but I may be your only ally here Helen.”

*

“You’re perfect.” Cassandra said, a week after their first meeting, studying Helen’s every feature. The two girls spent their days together talking, weaving, singing as it was expected of them.

“I’m beautiful, yes. That’s something they’re never going to let me forget. Perfection is nothing but a lie. Men call perfect the first girl with tormented eyes. I am the one that launched a thousand ships. It was not for my kindness, nor wisdom. My brothers are heroes sung by a thousand chorus. What am I but a tragedy?”

“My mother told me a story once about a little bird, a canary. A long time, Troy flourished with lemon trees growing the ripest golden fruits. And on top of it sung the canary. Travelers came from all over the sea to even have the luck to hear its dawn melody. Some say that the bird had been blessed by Apollo himself. But all good things are not made to last and the king, consumed by greed, hunted and caged the canary, to keep its music for himself.”

“What happened?”

“What happens to every caged bird. It withered and with nowhere to fly away, died miserable in the cage.”

*

Cassandra had been a welcoming presence in this never-ending hell. she visited often with hidden gifts or news from Sparta. She showed nothing but kindness expecting nothing in return. And yet Cassandra couldn’t fill the Hermione-shaped hole in her. She tried, sharing the vision she had of Helen’s daughter, growing as a wise, motherless young woman. Somedays the loneliness and sorrow were too much for her too handle, tightening her chest until she could barely breathe. So, she ran, ran as far as her feet could take her, as far as she was allowed to.

Cassandra found her one day high above the ground, standing on the firm walls, weeping at the sea, longing for home. No words could heal her wounds and Cassandra knew that. They stood in silence for hours crying out all their carefully concealed pain in each other’s arm, a last wall before their collapse. When all of world’s evils left the box, only Hope remained.

*

The moon had casted gleam on the gardens. The war had made its first victims; the Greek had sailed to Troy’s highest walls begging for their Queen. The battles were roaring outside, the air carrying the scent of blood and rotten flesh. Oblivious to the bloodshed, two women were sneaking out of their rooms.

“What are we doing here?” whispered one of the shadows.

As an answer the other one picked an orange from the closest tree and ripped it open.

 

Cassandra leaned in and closed the space between their lips, sucking on the sweet liquor. And all of a sudden, a hand was in her hair and they were kissing. Entwined in their soft embrace, Cassandra listened to the hurling warriors fighting for this precious moment they were sharing. And she knew why Orpheus had gone to hell and back for his beloved.

*

Stolen kisses had become their habit. Cassandra had convinced her family that Helen needed another woman to help her navigate the world. _Only if they knew_ , the thought at night kept her awake. But they were careful, always careful. Only agonizing arm touches in public, furtive hand holding hidden under the table. Love ached, damned her but saved her from the dark nightmares. She was Tantalus and Sisyphus, forcing herself over and over again to ignore Helen’s laugh at dinner, avoiding even gazing, frightened that her lovesick eyes would betray her. Eventually someone would find out.

And someone did. Hector, her beloved brother Hector, cornered her one night accusing of her own misdeeds. Her back against cold stones, her breath short, her only thought turned to her, to her safety. Hector would surely drag her to their father and she would be married by dawn. But he did no such things. His strong arms enveloped her as he whispered prayers and blessings to the lovers.

“Nothing is more sacred than love, Cassandra. I hope you’ll understand that one day.”

*

"Who are you mourning?" Helen asked one day, frightened by Cassandra’s grieving dress.

"The soldiers. All the dead outside our walls. Falling one by one for this pointless war."

 "You never mourn them. Who are you morning Cassandra?"

"You"

 "What did you foresee?"

"I can't foresee the past. You've died."

 "I'm standing right in front you."

"A mere ghost of yourself Helen. Have you seen yourself? They don't see it. They never see you. But I do. I asked. I asked if they had noticed it. Nothing has changed, they said. But it has. You're different now."

"I don't feel different."

 "Lies"

"You're being dramatic Cassandra"

 "You're quieter. You now longer take long strolls in the gardens every time they let you out of your room. At dinner you drink their wine. You speak their language."

 "I've adapted to my environment."

“You've dulled yourself. You now longer sing canary. They snuffed the light out of you."

 "I don't think there was one to begin with. Only a radiant beauty that blinded everybody until darkness came. I'm nothing more than meet the eyes"

"Lie. Lies you tell yourself to make you feel better about your situation."

"What do you want me to do Cassandra? I'm trapped here! I've nothing left, no one left! I'm surrounded by foes, liars and traitors."

"You have me."

"I'm not sure that's enough. You're like me here. Just as much a prisoner, don't fool yourself Cassandra. They don't see a princess, even when you hold your head as straight as you can. They don't see that gleam of power in your eyes. They see the messy eyes, they see you talking to yourself. They see a heathen who dared reject a god. And they punish you for it."

*

Messengers had come to her room, bearing the heartbreaking, excruciating news of her brother's fate.

"You're not alone." She hadn’t noticed Helen standing behind her during her litany.

"Excuse me?"

"You think out loud most of the time. It's quite endearing. But as I've said, you don't have to grieve your brother alone. I'm here for you."

"What makes you think you can replace twenty years of friendship? You're nothing like him!"

 "First, you're right. Second, I don't plan on replacing him. I only want to give you my unwavering support."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you when you we're trying to be supportive."

 "It's alright grief does funny thing to people."

 "Could we talk?"

"About what?"

"I love you" She said it at least. Out of the blue. Hector would have wanted her to live again. Not time for grieving in a war. That comes after. If there is an after.

 "Oh Cassandra. I will love you as Achlys loves innocence, as tempests love the sailors and as war loves young men. I will love you until all the walls in the world collapse and fall, and until the moon no longer run her nightly course. I will love you despite the distance, despite the ships carrying me home as we leave your shore. I will love you until you stop breathing and even after. I will love you if you leave me, if you find your true leave and marry them. I will love you as you have children and I will love them with the same I bear for you. I will always love you Cassandra even when Troy is burnt to the grounds and there’s no evidence of us. Someone, I tell you, in another time will remember us.”

*

It was a lovely night, a warm lazy summer night. One of those nights made for grape-eating and friendly laughter. If there were laughter out there tonight, it was not friendly nor kind. Roars had overpowered the never-ending litany of agony.

Curled up in the darkness, she could hear the roars, the cutting, slashing, piercing. Crawling to the statue, kissing her feet, she prayed for a last hopeless blessing:

“Clear-eyed Athena, courageous maiden,

Whose chastity remains an example to gods and mortals alike,

I pray to you. Grant me your protection from the terrors of this night.”

The footsteps grew closer but she couldn’t stop her whispering. There was no escape; the men were coming for their war tribute, for her. There was no resisting, no fighting. No tears too.

The temple’s doors burst open. The hearth’s flames could barely light his face. She couldn’t make out his sigil in the dark, but she all too well Greek colors. And it was all her fault. Caught up in her distress, she had forgotten. _The horse is a trap; don’t let it in our walls._ But she forgot Apollo’s sweet, sweet curse. They had laughed it off. She could remember the red face of the mocking general, and how white his face was tonight only tainted crimson by the blood dripping from a spear.

“It’s the princess!” The soldier screamed, sealing her fate. “They’re right you now. You’re not _her_ but still worth the look.”

 

“No.” A firm voice resonated behind him, a cloaked figure holding a sword too large for their frail hands, striking their opponent in the chest. “You can’t have her.”

“Helen? What are you doing? That’s not was supposed to happen! That’s not what I’ve seen!”

“Then maybe it’s time we stop trusting the gods. The walls are down Cassandra, nothing is holding us here anymore. We can leave, _together_.”

 


End file.
